Small Favors
by Min Daae
Summary: Sansa thinks she's grown up, meeting Sandor again years later. Sandor doesn't quite agree.


She hadn't seen him in a very long time.

Sansa had grown up, in that time, in more ways than one, but he didn't seem to have changed at all. She didn't know exactly when he'd shed the faith's robes for his more usual leathers, but she had followed him out of the hall when she'd recognized him. Hesitating in the door to the stables, she watched him wrench the girth of his big stallion's saddle tight. She didn't think he knew she was watching. As usual with him, she was wrong.

"What are you doing here?" He growled, not turning. His face was in shadow, but she could see his shoulders tense slightly.

"I saw you leave," She managed to get out. He still made her throat close up, though Sansa no longer could have said it was only fear. "And I-"

"Had to follow?" He kneed his horse sharply in the gut and then tightened the girth again, and she could hear the almost-snarl in his voice. "Nosy, chirping little bird."

"I didn't understand why." She bit her lip, wondering if she'd made a stupid choice again. Sansa liked to think she was older now, knew better than she had last time they met. Perhaps it wasn't true.

"Do you need to understand why?" He turned, looked at her with his jaw set and eyes narrowed. Sansa knew he expected her to flinch or look away, and she looked back at him defiantly. "It's none of your business."

"You're leaving," she accused him.

"Well observed," he snapped. "Yes, I'm leaving."

"I mean – really leaving. Leaving the Faith – how did you end up there anyway-"

He cut her off with a snarl. "None of your business, little bird. I'm leaving, yes. Really leaving." He shrugged. "What's one more promise broken?"

Sansa frowned. "But it's not – right," she said, lamely, trying to explain, and knew she'd made a mistake when he turned on her.

"And since when have I ever done what is right? Go back to your _father, _little bird. He'll miss you before too long and I don't want to see you try to lie about why your were talking to me." His mouth twitched in that hateful way, but it was still his eyes that bothered her. Though not in the same way.

There was something other than pure anger now.

"He's not my father," she said, a little hotly. "Why are you always so – intolerable? I'm trying to _talk _to you-"

"I don't need your charity," he snarled, and she nearly quailed, but forced herself to stand straight. She was afraid, yes, but that didn't mean she had to show it.

"It's not charity, please," she tried to say, but he turned violently away from her.

"Shut up," he growled, voice low and dangerous and angry, quieter, and that was somehow worse. "Get out of here, you stupid girl. _Leave._"

He jerked his horse's reins to lead him past her. She backed up, but to her own surprise the words left her mouth anyway.

"Take me with you."

He didn't turn. "What?"

"Take me with you," she said in a rush, "You're leaving. I don't want to stay here, Petyr frightens me…"

"_Everything _frightens you. _I _frighten you." His mouth twitched again in that odd way, angry or bitter or something. He was damnably hard to read, even knowing what she knew now.

"Not anymore," Sansa said, and made her voice softer, quieter, so he would have to listen. "I want you to take me with you. Wherever you're going."

He turned, slowly, to examine her. "No," he said, quieter also, "You don't. Not where I'm going." He jerked his head. "I'm not just leaving, girl, I'm _leaving. _Getting out of this damned country somewhere no one knows my name. I'm sick of being recognized." He rolled his shoulders. "You don't want to come with me."

"At least take me somewhere else other than here!" She cried as he turned away again.

This time she did see the anger twist his face. "If I take you anywhere I'm not going to let you go again, you idiot girl," he snapped. "Don't be _stupid. _Have some sense."

She felt herself blush, not sure if the double meaning she heard was intended, and was ashamed of herself for even thinking it. She glanced down at her feet, silenced. "I wouldn't – Winterfell's gone," she whispered.

Sansa heard him move but didn't expect him to touch her. He did, hand cupping her chin and bringing it up to meet his eyes. She did not try to look away, though she trembled just a bit. His calloused skin was rough on her face. "So you're just going to run away too? I know I'm a coward, little bird. I was beginning to think you'd grown out of it."

She stared at him, uncomprehending, and he let her go. "You have a life here, Sansa. Don't throw it away."

"Why are you leaving now?" She demanded. "Why not before, why not after the Blackwater-" She saw his right hand, his sword hand, clench and quieted.

His voice was rough edged. "I'd thought it would be obvious. Because of you, little bird." His mouth twitched darkly. "A continent isn't enough, apparently, to keep me from wanting to do something…regrettable."

Sansa felt herself shiver, and he turned away. "That's why."

She hesitated, thinking about dreams and true knights and fear, and wasn't even sure that the words had really made it out of her mouth until he reacted. "Kiss me." He went entirely still, stiffened, and turned to look at her, expression utterly blank. She stared back, mouth slightly open, stunned at herself.

Then, to her surprise, he did kiss her.

His hands rested lightly on her waist, and she was almost disappointed by the decorum of the way he held his body away from hers. But if his body said one thing, his kiss said another. It wasn't the romantic, gentle, sweet kiss she'd thought of when she was younger. His lips, half whole and half permanently chapped, felt strange. But the way he pressed his mouth to hers was, if not gentle, passionate, and she felt that he stepped back too quickly, jerked away, almost, and swung astride his destrier without looking for her.

"Wait," she called, managing to catch her breath. "Wait – here," she pulled a ribbon from her hair. "A ribbon, have it, for my favor…"

He gave her a look of utter disgust. "Don't be an idiot," he snapped, and spurred his mount away.

Sansa stared after him for a long time, ribbon dangling forgotten from her fingers, even after he vanished from sight.


End file.
